Dare to Dream
by silberstreif
Summary: Life in Kaon is hard, tragic and more often than not short. Kaonite Enforcer Jazz knows all that and navigates the streets with experience. But when a Praxian officer on the hunt for a dangerous killer comes to visit, some things can't be ignored any longer. (Written for the ProwlxJazz Challenge at LJ)


Dare to dream

Bored optics roamed over the endless desert of old, decaying skyscrapers. Frequently**, **the landscape was punctuated with the magnificent towers of the nobles and rich, which screwed themselves into the sky like claws of a lurking predator.

Between them stretched the aerial highways on which densely packed hovercrafts transported their customers from one tower to the next, so that they would never have to touch the lower levels of the city. Every now and then one could see between the skyscraper the gigantic highways for the normal mechs, which were - thanks to the overpopulation - more often then not one single traffic jam with no end in sight.

What one couldn't see from here were the ravine entrances which gaped between and beneath the houses and highways like open wounds**; **barely hidden, but always ignored. They only housed squalor and death. Hope hadn't set a pede into them for longer than he lived.

This monster of a city, which spread across the landscape like rust over gleaming steel, was Kaon.

::Officer Jazz, please return to the station immediately,:: notified his comm system suddenly. ::Officer Jazz, please confirm.::

::Officer Jazz here. Order received and confirmed,:: he answered shortly.

With a low sigh**,** he stood up and walked with confident steps on the small, rattling metalbridge, which connected apartment block 34-D with the chimney of the plant for which the block had once been built. The factory had now been abandoned for a long time by all but the drug gangs, but those who were daring enough could still enjoy the view of Kaon from here.

The little bridge groaned with every step beneath his weight of his reinforced armour and the inbuilt weapons. Some orn soon she would break down, but it wouldn't be today and he reached the roof of the apartment block safely. The dirty black door led into the apartment block. Long empty hallways greeted him, but he knew that behind the doors they were teeming with life. Without hesitation he passed the door that led to his own small room and instead chose the lift downwards. It took a while to pass the floors. 34-D had over 150 floors and in them lived over 15 thousand mechs. Most of them were law abiding, but there were some floors Jazz hadn't visited in vorns. They were controlled by one gang or another.

On the street**,** he transformed into a motorcycle and joined the thick traffic. Thanks to his Enforcer mark and build**, **he managed to weave through the traffic and reached the station only a few breems later. The station was a big, run-down building with fences intended to stop mobs and hidden weapons to do worse. At top of the station**,** the blue glyphs 'Kaon Enforcer' shined into the gloom and shadows of the city.

He walked inside to the entrace desk. "Heya, Speedrake. Ah've been called in, do ya know why?"

"Sure, I do." Speedrake was thin and young, with a jovial smile. As all Enforcers he sported the black and white colours. "We have an important visitor. Guess the Chief wants him to show the nice sides of Kaon."

They both laughed at the bad joke. It was then that Jazz noticed a new sign on Speedrake's breast plates. It was purple and not at all unknown to him. "Joined up with the Decepticons?" he asked casually, not showing how much it disturbed him that an Enforcer was openly showing his allegiance to an outlawed group.

"Sure!" Speedrake puffed out his chest proudly. "Ah' thought it's time, ya know? If not now, when then?" He leaned forward and said a bit lower: "Times are changing, ya know. We have ta make a stand or no one will."

"Yeah... Good that we have mechs like you." He hoped that Speedrake didn't notice his doubts. "Where is the Chief?"

"Room 243. Better not to keep him waiting, right?"

He winked and started walking. "Yep. Until later, Speedy."

The Kaon Enforcers had been underfunded for decades and it was obvious. The walls showed signs of long ago fights with criminals. Dust and rust and worse was everywhere. And one could only imagine the colour the station had been once painted in – a royal blue. These had been the good orns long past.

He knocked at the door of room 243 and was asked to enter. Inside he saw his boss and next to him**,** a foreign Enforcer with doorwings. Praxian, his processor supplied. "Chief, ya wished to see ma?"

"Finally, there you are." The Chief Enforcer of Kaon was a veritable giant and every kilogram of his was tuned for battle. Jazz had seen warframes that had looked like toy soldiers next to him. "This is Prowl, a Praxian Enforcer. He's here with orders to hunt down a serial killer with the designation - " The chief looked at the Praxian.

Prowl didn't miss a beat: "Glint."

The chief nodded. "Glint it is. So, because I'm busy and all, I thought I would give him my best detective at hand – you Jazz. Try to help him in any way you can, yes?" The chief was already moving towards the door. "If you're in trouble or anything, the normal procedures apply, got it?"

"Yes, chief," said Jazz.

"Good luck**,** you two." And the chief was out the door.

Jazz turned to his new charge – or boss, it could go both ways. "Welcome to Kaon, then, I guess," he said. "I'm Jazz. Anything special you need?"

Prowl walked towards him. "Nice to meet you. I need to look into your archives. But mostly I have to know where Glint could hide in this city."

Jazz chuckled mirthlessly. "This is Kaon. The short answer is everywhere."

The Praxian was not impressed. "And the long answer?"

"The long answer is everywhere where he can pay for the roof." Depressing, but true. No one here cared about murder anymore. No one but the Enforcers and the cohorts of the victim. Which led sometimes to a few very ugly and very high profile scenes.

"I see." Prowl vented. "We froze his bank accounts, and estimate that he has around 1500 credis on his person. Does that help?"

That wasn't much money. But still... "Is he a mech that would try to save?"

After a short hesitation Prowl nodded. "Yes. He has acted very carefully so far and chooses his victims far in advance."

"Then maybe we're in luck and he's tried to find a place where he can stay, say for a vorn. There are still far too many places he would find, but most have a nice side effect. They're gang controlled."

"And how is that poseitive for us?" asked Prowl confused.

Jazz shrugged. "We kinda have a deal with the gangs. We don't bust their lower crimes constantly and they refrain from the higher crimes like murder, harvesting, forced codewriting..."

For a long moment the Praxian just stared at him. Then he slowly said: "That's illegal."

Non-Kaon. Right. Jazz sighed. "Look, I know it's illegal, okay? But we're a few Enforcers against over thirty different gangs that all have the same or more manpower than we do. We had to cut deals, or we would be a burning hole in the ground, got it?"

Prowl didn't look as if he 'got' it. "You gave simply up and left this city to crime," he accused.

"Gave up?" Slowly Jazz became angry. "We didn't give up. We are trying our best to keep this city at least halfway liveable. Try being an Enforcer here for a vorn and if you then still live**, **you've cut deals or never left the station. That's reality. Alternatively we could just leave Kaon. Do you want that?"

"No." The Praxian Enforcer crossed his arms. "I still can't believe that 'cutting deals' as you put it is the best or only way."

"Maybe." Jazz sighed. "But it's our way. So, do you want us to go to them and ask about this Glint or not? But I tell you now, the other ways are looking worse or will get you nothing."

The impressive doorwings on the Praxian's back started to rise, then they were quite clearly forced down. "This is your city," he said with a huff. "I will not criticise your choices."

Jazz, who hadn't even noticed how tense he had become, relaxed and even offered a smile. "Sounds like we're going to work out, Prowl. Ready to move? Negotiations here are not really done over comm lines, so we'll have to drive around a lot."

"That will be no problem," answered Prowl while they both moved out of the room. "I have a standard Enforcer altmode."

"Good. Standard armour, too?" He himself and most of his colleagues were far above standard. It was expensive yes, and more than a few needed Energon cubes worth, but it also saved their sparks regularly.

The Praxian shook his helmet. "Grade four armour."

Jazz looked at him**,** surprised. "That's quite good, 'specially for a Prax like you." That was his own armour grade. "Special reason for that?"

The Praxian looked at him with something that might have been a smile – or pure pride. "I am in the Special Task force in Praxus. We apprehend the more dangerous criminals."

"Like serial killers," concluded Jazz.

"Exactly."

"So you know how to fight, that's good. You might need it in the streets." He noticed Prowl's alarmed look and shook his head. "Nothing serious, probably. But some mechs when they see a new Enforcer, especially when they have weak points like your wings, like to see what they're made of."

He tried to let it sound casual, and not like the deadly fights those sometimes were. He had seen many good Enforcers die like that. But even more often the challengers had died. Rarely had they been older or more experienced. Usually, they were young mechs out for glory in their gangs. Young, stupid, desperate mechs, Kaon never lacked in those.

"I'll be able to hold my own," assured Prowl**,** who might have heard his worry.

"Let's hope so."

Jazz greeted Speedrake and then they were out on the street. The Praxian transformed first into a sleek and very fast looking car. It would have a bit more difficulty than Jazz manoevring in the traffic, but on the other hand he probably packed a few nice surprises behind the armour. He nodded appreciatively and transformed as well.

::Officer Prowl,:: he sent his ping. ::First, we'll visit the steward association. Not a real gang, but not entirely nice either.:: Together they joined the traffic.

::Understood. Can you tell me more about this association?::

::Sure.:: They turned and drove on to one of the big highways. Most mechs made space for the two Enforcers, not out for trouble. ::The steward association is built on money and really was created in some kind of self-defense against the gang wars. I think it first started during the first recession when all the plants closed down and the owners stopped caring about them and their apartment blocks. But the people didn't move out, so the stewards of the buildings took over. But they were bullied by the gangs, so they used the money from the rents, hired mechs and drove the gangs off as long as they didn't start paying rent too. With time**,** the stewards formed an association and cemented their rule of the apartment blocks that way. A few gangs were stupid enough in the past to challenge them, and they used them as a very bloody and showy example. Let me tell you, it's no fun to walk past corpses on the way to your home every day.::

Silence. Jazz sweved to the side and avoided a truckloader. On the side they passed several small shops. He noticed a purple face in many of their windows, some had only appeared this decaorn.

::I see,:: Prowl finally said. ::So if Glint has moved into one block they would know?::

The Praxian was either a real professional, or he was starting to get the Kaonite way. Jazz saw no other reason why he should've ignored the corpse comment. ::Definitely. The question is if they would say it.::

::They demand a price, right?::

::Yep. And credits are not always what they want.::

They left the highway straight into Kaon's cleanest streets. Left and right**,** high towers raced towards the sky, their peaks far to high to be seen from here. This was the still beating pump of Kaon, its financial district in which one could buy everything.

Jazz halted in front of a tower that looked like any other. It was completely silver, but its door had a golden and plantinic bordure, as well as two big and grim looking mechs with matching blue and yellow paint jobs. Jazz walked up to them without fear.

"Hey guys, I need to talk to the Prince."

"The Prince is busy," said the left one. "Please leave."

Jazz smiled. "I can't really do that as I haven't talked with the Prince yet. Let me in, please?"

"No," said this time the right one. "Please leave, or we'll have to use force."

"See mechs, you do not really want to do that." Jazz's smile became icy. "I'm here on a mission, searching for a serial killer. If you do not let me in, I have to believe that you're hiding him and then I would have to come again. And I assure you that then I will not be alone."

The two guards looked at each other, then back at Jazz. The left one's stare became a bit glassy as he activated his comm line, while the other guard asked: "A serial killer... Dangerous?"

"Very. Or at least dangerous enough that Praxus is searching for him even in Kaon." He pointed behind him an Prowl. "Definitely not one ya want ta have around."

Again the guards looked at each other, then nodded. "Please follow me," said the left one. "I would recommend not to walk away from me or to linger behind."

"No prob," said Jazz and winked at Prowl to follow him inside.

The tower was just like the last few times Jazz had visited. Very expensive interior, from the white marble floor to the painted ceiling**,** everything was from the finest quality. Security measures were everywhere, some hidden, some not. Cameras, guards and an AI that observed the whole building were just the beginning. This building was**,** despite its wealth**,** a fortress.

Next to him**,** Prowl was clearly disturbed by the displayed wealth. "I didn't think I would find something like this here," he whispered.

"We have several towers like this," answered Jazz ruefully. "It's not the rich we lack, we lack the in**-**between. A few insanely rich mechs and everyone so poor that they nearly die."

The Prince of the Stewards received them in a opulent room with a fantastic view of the city. Jazz couldn't help but compare it to the view from his small metal bridge and found with some satisfaction that they both showed the same sight.

"Welcome, my dear Enforcers, welcome!" a small green mech, barely reaching Jazz's and Prowl's shoulders greeted them. He was shining in the artificial light from nanites that had gotten everything they needed and more in hundreds of vorns.

"My Prince," said Jazz politely. "It's wonderful to see you again and in best health."

"Thank you! My secrets are Tyger Pax sweets, they keep me young and vital," he said with a wink. "You should try them some orn, too. Jazz, right, that was your designation?"

Jazz ignored the sweets comment. Everyone in the room knew that he would never have the money to pay for them. "I'm honoured that you remembered my designation, Prince." He made an elaborate handwave to Prowl, knowing that the Prince liked those things. "My companion has traveled far from Praxus to speak with you. His designation his Prowl and he's a famous detective."

"Wonderful, just delightful!" The Prince smiled wider. "Prowl, you said, right? I'm the Prince of the Stewards here in Kaon. We provide everyone with a roof and a home. It's a wonderful and satisfying job, let me assure you. All those happy faces when we can finally give them the number combinations for their new homes," he sighed in faked happiness. "Nothing I can live without."

Prowl, the Praxian, was just staring at the Prince. Jazz wasn't sure if the main emotion in his new partner was horror or confusion, but he could understand him. The Prince often was a bit much the first time one met him. So he jumped in again: "Kaon is always thankful for the service you and your stewards provide, Prince. Don't doubt that."

"I do not." For a moment a colder, ruthless side was visible in the red optics of the Prince, then the smile was back. "So please tell me, how can I help you two today?"

This was Prowl's cue. He stepped forward and explained his situation while heavily insisting that this Glint mech was dangerous and unpredictable. He also didn't forget to add that Glint was far from rich.

"I see, I see." The Prince's smile hadn't changed during the whole speech. "That really isn't a mech I would like to place with innocent cohorts and mechs..." He looked at Jazz. "Surely, if I look into this, it would count as a favour, right?"

"Only if you put the word out and and keep us updated in the future as well, should Glint show up in one of the steward's apartments." Jazz had experience with loopholes and the Prince always tried to use them.

After a barely noticeable hesitation, the Steward Prince nodded. "Of course, of course. After all, we're trustworthy business mechs." He walked over to the console and plugged in. "Ah, no, sadly there is no mech with that designation. Also, no new Praxian mech. Of course**,** if he has reformatted it might still be possible that he is in one of our apartments, but I will caution my people." He unplugged from the console. "I suppose this was all?"

Jazz nodded, slightly disappointed that the biggest and easiest way had yielded nothing. "This was all, my Prince. It's always a pleasure of doing business with you."

"Same here, same here. I wish you a nice orn, officers. Blackkey, please show the gentlemechs outside, yes?"

The guard bowed. "Yes, sir."

A breem later**,** they were standing in the street in front of the tower. Prowl crossed his arms and his wings flicked in barely hidden emotion. "Prince, this mech calls himself prince?! We abolished these titles centuries ago!"

"Would ya like it more if he called himself king?" asked Jazz tiredly. "Doesn't change anything about his power."

"He should be in a prison and nowhere else," growled Prowl. "It's disgusting how he forced you to cower before him. You're an Enforcer not his servant."

"That we're Enforcers is the only reason he saw us." Jazz turned towards the street. "Come on, we have mechs to meet."

This time he led Prowl away from the glossy entry into smaller streets. There were no towers any more, only the giant apartment blocks and the smaller skyscrapers in**-**between. It was dark in these streets and dark shadows hid much but not the noises. Jazz simply walked on, not stopping. Once they passed a huge wall on which the Decepticon logo was displayed in all of its glory.

"Huh," said Jazz more to himself. "That wasn't here last time."

"You come here often?" asked Prowl**,** a bit disbelieving**, **as he tried to avoid stepping on the scurrying vermin that passed over his pede.

"Well, how do you define often?" asked the other Enforcer with a grin. "But yeah, I'm here regularly."

"I can't imagine why," was the dry reply. "Who are we searching for anyway?"

"A gang called Pitfighters. They control the gladiatorial games around here. Hard mechs with histories that often are less than pretty, but far from stupid." Jazz stumbled over a trash can and the Praxian's arm shot forward and caught him. "Glint might have thought that they wouldn't be bothered by him – if so, he has made a deadly mistake. There are few things they like less than a mech killing for nothing but enjoyment."

"Really?" asked Prowl in slight surprise. "I have to admit that seems to be a strange mindset for a gang that sponsors the gladiator fights."

Which were bloody, deadly and ruthless. But the most chilling effect of these fights were never the gladiators down in the arena, but the cheering, screaming crowds surrounding them. It was not easy to forget the sheer joy while watching a spark being deactivated.

"Only at the first glance," said Jazz. "They never force someone into the pit. No need to, in Kaon there are enough desperate mechs which are more than willing to risk everything for a few breems of glory."

"A few breems or more," interjected Prowl. "Look at Megatron."

Megatron, the sole rising star of Kaon. A hero the people rallied around in desperation, because he promised them barely more than that there could be a better life.

"Well, he's the exception," admitted Jazz. "Most get just a few breems. But see, they chose to and then they get their rewards. It's their decision. But a serial killer, he robs them of this choice. They simply die for Glint's enjoyment, not because they chose to set everything on one card."

They walked on for a few silent steps, then the Praxian muttered darkly: "I don't think I can understand them. Not Glint, not the gladiators**, **and not any other Kaonite."

Jazz only nodded in acceptance. But he thought that the Praxian should be glad he couldn't. These were lessons learned when one had nothing to lose but your spark, but everything to win. In front of them a massive wall, made of plates and steelrods welded together**, **blocked the whole was an impressive makeshift architecture, which was clearly only the entrance to a far bigger building complex.

"What is this?" asked Prowl.

"Their headquarters, kind of. Behind it are the quarters and training rooms for the gladiators, among other things." Jazz walked up to the middle of the wall, where a small door was guarded by no less then four mechs sitting around a card game. They were all huge, armoured and armed. Their bodies showed signs of silvery weld seams all over, while their paint jobs were flashy and eye catching. These were clearly gladiators.

"Hey guys, is the Big Boss in?" greeted Jazz calmly.

All four of them abruptly looked up from their cards. One of them grimaced in obvious distaste: "Enforcer." A friend of his put his servo on his shoulder.

"Calm, Bonecrusher. Not yet."

The 'yet' wasn't reassuring, but neither Enforcer showed their sudden unease. One of the gladiators had stood up. He was red with blue optics and a nice chassis. "Why do ya want ta know?" he asked.

"We've got a message for him." He pointed back at Prowl. "He's from Praxus and searching for a serial killer. Real crazy guy, killed a few younglings and mechs from behind."

The gladiator called Bonecrusher stilled. "From behind?"

Jazz nodded gravely. "Yeah."

"Coward," spat Bonecrusher in sudden anger. "And he's now a gladiator?"

"Maybe. Designation is Glint. Heard of him?"

"No," said a yellow, nearly golden gladiator that looked surprisingly similar to the red, standing one. "What does he look like?"

Prowl stepped forward and offered him a datapad which contained photos. The yellow one took it and started looking through them. "Looks slagging bad, the mech. No idea how a Praxian can choose light green as his colour, that just clashes, really..." The yellow one shook his head. "I would remember this colour anywhere, but he hasn't been here." He squinted at the photos. "And I would remember a new Praxian frame too. But I've saved his face into my databanks. Short of a complete reformat, I'll recognise him."

The red one nodded. "Sunny is real good at that. If he comes here, we get him."

"Thanks, you're a real help." He wondered if Glint would survive an encounter with these four mechs. Probably not. No real loss there. "Just give us a call, if you've gotten him, yes? We don't want to search for that fragger forever."

"Sure." The red one shrugged as if not caring and the others joined in. "We'll spread the word around too. No one will stab us into the back."

"And if he does, it will be the last a mech has ever seen of him," promised Bonecrusher in his hand an energy dagger which he was suddenly flipping around. In lesser servos**, **the dagger would've cut off at least a few fingers**, **if not more.

"Good to hear," said Jazz again. "Until then."

They left the four gladiators and tried to walk back without seeming to be in too much of a hurry. The four gladiators settled around their game, then the red one stood up and vanished through the door into the inside of the structure. The other three played on as if nothing had happened.

"Do you really think they'll tell this Big Boss about the matter?" asked Prowl reluctantly, clearly doubting it.

Jazz didn't share these doubts at all. "Yep. Because the Big Boss will probably set out a reward for his sparkchamber, maybe even in energon cubes if he's generous. Remember, they really don't like serial killers."

"And mechs that could stab them into the back," added the Praxian Enforcer wryly.

Jazz had to smile. "Those too."

Prowl 'mmh'. "I noticed that this Bonecrusher and his silent friend both also wore the Decepticon symbol. The outlawed group seems to be popular here."

Jazz had noticed this little fact as well, but hadn't wanted to mention it. "Very popular," he admitted slowly. "It's said that the Big Boss is a Decepticon as well."

Prowl's wings tensed in interest. "And who might this Big Boss be?"

Jazz searched his databanks. "Designation is Soundwave. Not a very good gladiator, but he once worked as a secretary to some senator or so, before being fired. Since then he has used his skills to build up this gang and to control the gladiatorial business." Jazz frowned. "Met him once, but he's a real creepy mech. Not sure what's wrong with him, but Ah don't really wanna meet him again."

"Which is why you didn't push with the four gladiators," concluded Prowl.

"Hey, ya haven't met Soundwave, okay. Then we can talk," said Jazz in sudden anger. "Also, it wouldn't have helped. We've got what we wanted."

"That's true, still -" Prowl stopped, because in that moment a mech staggered onto the path in front of them. With far too light green optics he was looking around, but not really seeing the two Enforcers. His body was lean, and near grey as the nanites had long stopped producing any colour.

"Softkey," whispered Jazz in horror and then stopped forward to catch the poor mech before he crashed to the ground. "Softkey..." Gently, he carried him to the wall, cleared a bit of trash from the ground and lowered him down.

Concerned**, **Prowl knelt down next to Softkey. "Shall we call a medic? This looks serious."

"And who pays for the medic?" snapped Jazz, while reaching deep into his subspace. "No, Ah can help him." He pulled out a cube of energon, still half full and placed it at Softkey's lips. "Hey, dear, just drink. It's energon."

The last word seemed to do something to the poor mech and he gripped the cube with both servos and nearly ripped it out of Jazz's hands. Curling protectively around the cube, Softkey started to gulp down the energon at a speed that had to hurt his tanks.

The two Enforcers watched in silence, two black and white guardians to a sick and weak mech. A few mechs passed them, but the moment they recognised the Enforcers they hurried on, never looking for longer than absolutely necessary. It was a typical Kaon survival tactic: Don't look. Don't care. Don't stop.

"I've never seen a case of energon depletion this bad," admitted the Praxian with a whisper so only Jazz would hear it. "Doesn't he work?"

Jazz's visor became a bit darker. "Softkey does work, but as a pleasure bot. He fled the last brothel he was in, because of the abuse and came to us, but we couldn't really do anything. No proof and all." No proof and enough credits changing servos that no one was inclined to search for it, too. "Tried ta help him, but there wasn't much Ah could do. Frankly, Ah'm impressed that he's still alive."

Before them**,** Softkey had emptied the cube and had now started to tremble and moan, a normal reaction to energy rushing through the system and reactivating modules that had already been put into stasis. He would be out for a few breems longer.

"Are the rates for freelancing pleasure bots that bad in Kaon?" asked the Praxian officer.

"Worse. They charge half a cube for a single interface."

Prowl's head snapped towards Jazz. "Impossible. One burns half a cube of fuel per interface. They wouldn't have enough to function."

Jazz pointed at Softkey. "Case in point." He sighed. "If ya don't overload during an interface and accept the pain of the overcharge, ya only burn 35 per cent of a cube. So they make 0.15 gain for a single interface."

For the first time Prowl showed a significant amount of distress. "A mech needs roughly one cube per orn. That would mean he has to interface at least seven times an orn without overloading a single time. The pain of this must be enormous!"

As if Jazz didn't already now that. "It is," he simply said and put a gentle hand on Softkey's helmet. Even as far occupied as his processor was, the mech still flinched away from the touch.

Softkey was an unusually well-built mech. Even without any colour and in need of a good wash, an inherent beauty was showing through. It was this beauty that had probably kept him alive for this long. Slowly**, **light was returning to the green optics and Softkey came back to their world.

"Jazz...?" he whispered.

"Good morning, Softkey," greeting the Enforcer with a smile and a tone designed to calm down. "How are you?"

"... everything hurts," answered the pleasure bot with a rough voice, which was clearly used to screaming loud and long. "But that's normal. What are you doing here?"

"Just crossed yar path by chance," said Jazz. "By the way, the mech next to ma is Prowl, a Praxian Enforcer."

Softkey's helmet turned slowly to the Praxian. "Nice to meet you, officer."

Prowl acknowledged the greeting with a short nod.

"Softkey," said Jazz softly. "When we found ya, ya were nearly completely depleted. Mind telling me what happened?"

Softkey looked down into his lap, then he shook his head. "Nothing much, really. Just... didn't find a customer for eight joors and the one I just had left without paying."

Jazz cursed.

Softkey put a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Jazz, really. You've done as always more than enough."

"Ah know." The Enforcer vented deeply. "Ah just wished..." He stopped, and sighed. "It doesn't matter what Ah wish for. Softkey, ya have to change yar life. Ya can't continue like that."

This sparked anger inside Softkey. "Don't you think I know that? Do you think I enjoy my life as a whore, which doesn't even have enough rep to be paid?"

"No," Jazz hastily said. "But -"

"But what?!" interrupted Softkey. "There are no jobs and no gang wanted to have a weak pleasure bot, and that was before I hit the streets. I don't have the frame to be a gladiator and I just refuse to become some drug experiment. I know how those usually end up and I'd rather take my chance in the streets!"

"Ya could join the Decepticons," Jazz offered quietly and Softkey froze. A bit farther behind, the Praxian Enforcer had the same reaction. "They're on a recruitment drive and taking every mech in. And at least they'll keep ya alive."

For a sparkbeat the pleasurebot looked at the dirty ground, then his optics flickered. "They'll turn me into something I am not. Into a soldier..."

"Probably," agreed Jazz quietly.

"Do you really think that living is worth it to become... a killer?" Softkey asked brokenly.

Jazz sighed. "I don't know. That's something only you can answer." He stood up. "Maybe ya don't have to kill."

Softkey laughed, low and grating, more a bark than anything else. "Do ya really believe that?"

"...No."

"See."

Jazz sighed, his spark hurting for the mech that he, in another world would've loved to have had as a friend. "Ah just don't see another way for ya. Ah'm sorry, really. Just think about it, alright?" Softkey didn't answer. Jazz sighed, his spark constricting even more. "Okay. We have ta go now, already lost too much time. Ah hope ya make it somehow. Bye, Softkey."

Why did good-bye words always feel so empty? He turned away, trying to ignore he spark, as he heard Softkey say: "Stop."

He stopped and looked back, not daring to hope yet. "What is it?"

Softkey slowly stood up and leant against the wall, but his optics were bright with determination. "Do you have the address of their recruitment office?"

Relief flooded Jazz as he answered: "Yes."

Two breems later**, **Prowl and Jazz were walking down the alleys side by side. The silence between them had turned from comfortable to icy, and the wings on the Praxian's back hadn't lowered a single centimetre from the high that clearly said: I'm angry. Jazz secretly had to admit that these wings were usual to detect his companion**'**s mood, because his face was just an unchanging mask.

When yet another breem passed, Jazz had finally had enough.

"Prowl, Ah get that you're angry, but could you quit yar acting and talk to ma like a normal mech?"

He didn't really expect the Praxian to grab his shoulder armour and to throw him into the next wall. Granted, the wall wasn't very far off, but still Jazz could only blink in surprise as the other Enforcer glared at him.

"Talk to you? I just had to observe how you bullied an innocent mech into joining an organisation outlawed by the Prime himself vorns ago!" snarled Prowl.

"Yeah, right, and?" Jazz pushed himself away from the wall. He wouldn't be intimidated by this upper-class mech. "It's not like Softkey had many choices besides deactivating."

If possible**,** the wings raised higher. "That doesn't matter. You're an Enforcer, sworn to be loyal to Prime. Joining the Decepticons should've never been mentioned by you!"

"Sure. But I've also sworn to protect, remember?" said the Kaonite icily. "What do you want me do, simply watch as Softkey deactivates?" Prowl only glowered silently at him and Jazz continued: "If I had seen any other way for Softkey to survive**,** I would've told him that. But there. Is. None." And wasn't that a sad and terrifying truth.

The Praxian Enforcer vented, then shook his helmet. "There has to be one. One about charity organisations? There are hundreds in Kaon."

Jazz wanted to laugh, but had the distinct feeling that it wouldn't help in this situation. "Yep. But they're all already busy with just the bad cases. They're not taking new mechs in."

"What case can be worse than a mech lesst han a joor away from starving to death?" asked Prowl incredulously. Something in his stance told Jazz that he didn't really want to hear the answer. Pity, that Jazz was going to deliver it any way:

"Sparklings and younglings starving to death, what else? Life expectancy is so low in Kaon, that most younglings lose their parents before they reach adulthood. Then these organisations jump right in and try to save what is there to save." Jazz's voice turned bitter and he looked away from the Praxian down the dark, dirty alley they were in. It was seemingly empty, but he knew that they were observed by fearful mechs, and probably also some scared younglings. Enforcers had some pretty bad reputations in some quarters. Often they were even deserved. "Not that they can reach all, or even manage to do such a good job besides keeping them alive. But hey, that's already more than anyone else does and who cares about abuse, neglect and if every vorn a few younglings vanish?"

The Praxian stared in something akin to horror at his partner. "You have to be lying. The Prime would never stand for such conditions."

"Never met the Prime," Jazz answered. "But as far as I can see – yes, he does."

While the rest of the planet had moved on and enjoyed the Golden Age with its riches and glory, Kaon had always worked, mocked and later forgotten by the other big city states. Sure**,** in those times they had enough fuel and health care, but they had worked hard and long hours. When the economy had taken a turn for the worse, the senators had taken one long at the energon distribution and saw that Kaon was using far more than any other city state. They reduced that amount with the smart reason that it would make the most impact and really, Kaon afterwards still had more than any other city state, no need to complain, right? That Kaon was using the energon in production, that its mechs were mainly big, heavy working mechs with large tanks**, **had never occured to these mechs. This started Kaon's rapid downfall that had never been stopped.

Prowl had observed the Kaonite Enforcer in front of him and then shook his head. "Well, I have met Optimus Prime and I can tell you, he would be appalled by the conditions here."

"Then why doesn't he change them?" Jazz asked, voicing the one, desperate question all Kaonites had carried around with them for so long. Until Megatron had told them the answer: Because he doesn't want to. Jazz's visor darkened at this and to banish the thoughts he looked at his Praxian companion again: "Do you wish any other explanations about Softkey?"

"Just one. Why don't you all leave Kaon?"

"And go where?" asked the Kaonite tiredly. "Kaonites are seen as lazy at best and criminals at worst, no one wants to employ us even if we by some luck had the education necessary for the job. Not to mention that one needs fuel or credits for the journey, and that's something most do not have."

Prowl nodded and seemed to contemplate what Jazz had said. "That's probably true."

The admission settled their dispute and together they walked on. The area remained bad, but most mechs hurried to avoid crossing their path. No one challenged them, no one spoke to them. Once they saw a mech carrying a sparkling, but he disappeared into a side alley fast, the sparkling gazing at them with wide curious optics.

No one here used an altmode and it showed. The ground was covered with litter and worse, while the walls often became too narrow for two altmodes to pass each other comfortably. Even though mechs fled from them, the streets were far from silent. Music, laughter, screams, or simply conversations echoed down the walls, becoming distorted and alien. Once**,** they passed beneath a black metal sheet that showed the Decepticon sign and the glyphs "Megatron for us all".

"We're nearly there," Jazz suddenly said only two alleys further down. "Just follow my lead and we'll be fine."

Prowl nodded. "What can I expect?"

Jazz shrugged. "We're now in Black Scabbard's territory. The biggest gang around here, controls everything in from drugs to prostitution. Their boss is Scourge, a really intelligent mech and an even better fighter. It's also said that he as a bit of a temper, one should be careful about."

A deep chuckle stopped the two Enforcers right in their tracks. "All true, all true." From a previously dark side alley**, **a huge black mech stepped out. Thick armour which was easily Grade Five or higher covered every inch of his body and in his servo he held a blaster. On his shoulders were the by now familiar symbols of the Decepticons. "Long time no see, Jazz."

The Enforcer smiled rather weakly. "Scourge, hey, didn't see you there."

"That was what I wanted." Scourge's burning red optics wandered to the Praxian enforcer. "My guards already told me you're bringing an unusual guest. An Enforcer Prax in Kaon, I've heard jokes that began like that." The gang boss grinned unpleasantly. "I guess the Prax has a good reason to be here."

"He has," confirmed Jazz who refused to be intimidated. To show weakness was a death sentence in this milieu. "We're searching for a Praxian serial killer called Glint."

"Interesting," said Scourge and his optics became brighter. "I have many killers among my mechs, but none have reached that title yet. Tell me, what did that mech to do be hunted across half the planet?" The gang boss didn't really sound concerned over the matter, but more like he was impressed.

Prowl twitched at the admission of having murderers among the gang, but Jazz ignored the statement with the ease of having already known. Every gang had assassins and killer and murderers here. It was just a matter of how controllable and powerful they were.

"He killed eight mechs and four younglings, all from behind and without reason but enjoyment," explained Jazz. "Glint's an uncontrollable danger to everyone, and a coward. Is that enough?"

"He's Praxian, that alone would've been enough, but a coward too?" Scourge frowned. "This is not a mech I will waste our fuel on. If this Glint is anywhere near our territory, he'll be shot down and brought to the Enforcer station as an example." A sharp grin. "My mechs love a good hunt, maybe he can provide one. I trust the Enforcers will look the other way in this case?"

Jazz had the sudden desire to punch this mech. But he couldn't, he had a job to do and that meant negotiating. "Sure, as long as ya catch him," he said instead. "Here is his pic and personal data." He gave Scourge the datapad. "That would've been all. We're then already on our way."

Scourge took the datapad without glancing at it. "You already want to leave us so soon, Jazz? Don't tell me that you're new friend has claimed all of your time."

That wasn't good. Not good at all. Jazz smiled anyway. "Well, not really, but ya know how it is, insane killer to hunt, reports to write, and never enough time."

"Of course I do." Scourge took a step towards him, and was now far nearer than Jazz wanted him to be. "But I thought you would've time to chat at least with a few old friends." He leaned forward, down to Jazz. "And family."

He could barely hide his flinch. He didn't have any family left but a single, stupid mech that he still couldn't help but love. "Ah wasn't aware that you had any family of mine in your gang, Scourge," he said coolly, trying to calm his suddenly racing spark.

"Not directly in my gang, but on visit certainly." The red optics glittered with malicious mirth. "I'm sure he would love to see you."

Before Jazz could retort, he heard a near silent "Jazz" from behind him. He stopped and looked back to his Praxian companion, just to see that now they were far from alone. In the alley behind them lounged several mechs who all observed the scene with Scourge very attentively. As they saw his look, they smirked and one or two even waved. Worse, far too many of them he knew by designation, which wouldn't help any besides knowing who would shoot them if Jazz did any wrong step.

Slag this, Jazz thought. Then he turned back to Scourge. "Ah don't think Ah can say no to such a lovely invitation."

Scourge straightened up. "You're always a welcomed guest, Jazz."

The gang boss started walking down the street, signaling that everyone should follow him. Without additional orders, the gang members began to surround the two Enforcers while chatting and laughing with each other, weapons always at hand.

Prowl**,** next to Jazz**,** seemed stressed. "What was this about your family, Jazz?" he hissed. "And where is he leading us?"

"Don't know where we're going," he answered grimly. "And family, well I only have one mech left. He wasn't a Black Scabbard last I checked, but he always liked changing allegiances."

"This isn't very reassuring," said the Praxian drily.

Jazz expected more hurtful comments, but instead Prowl remained silent and half a step behind him, clearly covering his back. It felt strange to have someone at his back, and he couldn't help but wonder if Prowl would really protect him – and found that yes, he could see this mech doing it. What irony, considering that most Kaonite Enforcers wouldn't dream of showing such loyalty to each other. It just wasn't the Kaonite way. Still, this Praxian was behind him and it calmed Jazz down as much as few things ever had done.

Scourge led them to an old house, which was corroding just as everything else in Kaon. Nothing really distinguished it from the houses left and right. Scourge entered first and Prowl and Jazz followed without much of a choice. The gang members though remained outside.

"Jazz!" exclaimed a very happy voice loudly. Before the Enforcer could react, arms were hugging him. "Jazz, mech, I would've never thought to meet you here of all places. What are you doing in gang territory, aren't you still a honest good Enforcer?"

Jazz tried to get the mech off him and look into his face. It was startingly similar to his own, it even had a red visor. Just his colours were different, dark red and grey, both healthy and vibrant. "Ricochet," Jazz greeted the mech and he couldn't stop the honest smile on his face. "Ya look good."

"Ah know," answered Ricochet without a hint of modesty. "One of us two has to keep up the amazing party reputations of our creators, ya know." An amused grin. "But then Ah do remember a few times when ya were far from boring at a party..."

"Ah have to let ya know that Ah can still be the life of any party," joked Jazz.

"Sure, sure." Ricochet smiled. "Come on, sit down first and your friend as well. He's a Prax, right? Have never seen a Prax Enforcer before."

"I'm only here for a case," said Prowl.

Ricochet led them deeper into the room. As poor as the building had seemed from the outside, the inside left no question open who it belonged to. Huge signs of black paintings of swords were on the walls and the whole room was filled with couches, cushions and blankets. The light was pretty dim and a sweet smell was in the air, the telling smell of Orinox, a very popular drug. This was probably something of a meeting or common room for the gang. But just what was Ricochet doing here? Jazz discreetly looked his frame over, but he couldn't see any gang marks – but he found without difficulty the obvious purple sign of the Decepticons. It surprised him less than it probably should have.

They settled down on some of the couches, Ricochet, Scourge on one side of the table and them on the other side. Scourge winked at a small, light red bot who scurried away to somewhere.

"A case, uh?" said Ricochet. "Let me guess, a big, bad mech...?" He grinned and Scourge laughed.

"Not so big," answered Jazz less amused. "But very bad." He leaned back into the couch as if he was comfortable in the setting. At his side**, **he noticed that the Praxian didn't bother to pretend that he wasn't tense, every mech with too optics could see it in his entirely stiff doorwings. Somehow that amused him. "Say Ricochet, what are ya doing here? Nothing against the Black Scabbards, really, but last Ah checked ya weren't one."

"Still aint, Jazz," admitted Ricochet. "But Scourge and Ah are now part of something bigger and better, ain't that right, Scourge?"

"Sure." At the side**, **the little servant from before had come back and brought a plate with several very strange looking cubes, colourful crystals and a few synriges even. Drugs. Scourge took the plate and offered it his guests: "Do you want some? Just take them, this is best quality."

Prowl looked appalled and Jazz hastily said: "No, thanks, we Enforcers still have to take the drug test every decaorn. Wouldn't want ta lose the job over something like this, ya understand?"

Scourge looked angry for a moment, but then Ricochet took a rainbow coloured cube from the plate. "Yar loss, Jazz, these are some of the best of all of Kaon." Ricochet shook his head in mock regret. "As Ah said, we're now all part of something better – the Decepticons!" He raised the cube: "For Megatron, for us!" Then he emptied the cube in one go and smiled brightly.

"For Megatron," agreed Scourge and emptied his own cube.

Prowl narrowed his opics. "So you're all Decepticons now?"

"Everyone here," agreed Ricochet. "The whole Black Scabbard gang and many others. Soon there will be no others left." He looked at Jazz. "Brother, ya should really join soon, too. The times are changing in Kaon, finally and ya don't wanna be left behind."

This was very true and the signs were everywhere. "I know," he said.

"Really?" Ricochet seemed relieved. "Ya know, Ah could get ya in real easy. Ah'm even now an official recruiter of the Decepticons, they pay me credits and not just energon. Isn't that great?" For a moment he seemed so very proud that it broke Jazz's spark. "They're really the future."

"That they are," agreed Scourge. "Megatron is changing things and making them better. Showing these upper class mechs that we exist and have a right to do more than just work."

Jazz had never taken Scourge for a mech concerned with things like justice or social equality. Maybe he had underestimated the mech. Maybe he had underestimated them all. "I've heard a few speeches of Megatron," he said reluctantly, acutely aware that they would accept nothing but agreement of their view.

Ricochet, who had just taken an orange crystal, looked up in interest. "Which one? They're all good, of course, but a few are just great."

"The best is the one where he stands in front of the city hall," mentioned Scourge. "What was it called..."

"Dare to dream," said Ricochet. "And Megatron is right. We should dare to dream of more than just the question where we get the energon for the next few orns. We should dream bigger, of a different life than this!"

This. This was Kaon. This was them. This.

It resonated deep down with Jazz and he would himself nodding. How many dreams did he bury? Did every other Kaonite bury? And it wasn't even the big dreams that hurt the most. No. What really hurt were when it should've been reachable, doable for every mech on the planet and you tried with everything you were able to give only to fail, because you were in Kaon. These small dreams like seeing your sparkling grow up, living in an apartment with two rooms instead of one, having enough energon to be able to celebrate on your centurion day... these are the things that really hurt and left scars.

Dare to dream.

When had Kaon stopped dreaming? When had hope left?

Ricochet and Scourge had been talking on, while Jazz sat there,drowning in his own thoughts and sparkdeep pain. Now, he shook his helmet to clear it and asked: "Ric, do ya have that speech?"

"That speech?" asked his brother, but then understood: "Oh, sure Ah have. Usually I demand a credit for it, but as ya're my bro, ya get it for nothing." He threw something at Jazz. "Ya'll love it, Ah promise ya. It's... as if his words are magic. They make a feel alive!"

"Thanks," Jazz smiled. "Ah owe ya one."

"Ah, don't worry. All is repaid when ya finally join." Ricochet looked at him**,**suddenly intense. "Ya will join, right?"

"Sure." It wasn't as if there were any other choices. Kaon was changing, the power balance was shifting and it would be beyond stupid to resist. He stood up. "Ya can come over and explain it all ta me, if ya like. But for now we still have a big, bad mech to catch."

"Sure, no need to keep ya here for longer," said Ricochet with a glance to Scourge, who nodded after a moment of hesitation. "Let ya friend watch it as well, yes? We can always use more mechs, even from other city states."

"I will gladly watch it," said Prowl without any inflection at all. Jazz was absolutely sure that his partner was lying, but thankfully the Decepticons didn't seem to notice it.

They weren't stopped when they walked outside. Dozens of optics followed their steps and in turn Jazz stared back. For the first time he noticed an additional sign on many plates. It was small, less of a declaration of allegiance than a private sign. It was a single glyph, mostly held in silver or black: Dream.

Dare to dream.

He couldn't forget the words, even when they walked away.

They walked in silence for a while, and with every step Jazz grew tenser. Far from forgotten were the accusations Prowl at thrown at him earlier, when he had told Softkey to join the Decepticons. To discover that his own brother wasn't just one, but a recruiter was worse. But without a doubt**,** worst was the fact that Jazz was seriously considering it.

Yet Prowl stayed silent and simply walked at Jazz's side. In the end it was Jazz who broke the silence with something unexpected: "Ya know, it's kind of my fault that Ricochet is like that."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "How can that be your fault?"

"Easy. Ah kinda raised him." As Prowl's face grew only more disbelieving**,** he hurried to continue: "Really. Our creators were well-off Kaonites. They had been codewriters before the slowdown and later became really good code hackers. But they wanted Rico and me to lead an honest life and so they paid for my Enforcer career. Ah was good enough to get invited to Iacon University as one of the ten most promising Enforcers."

These ten young mechs were chosen every decavorn from all new Enforcers and formed a squad. Every member in said squad was trained in a certain area of advanced knowledge to which only few mechs ever had access to.

"Impressive." Prowl smiled. "I myself was invited to fill the slot of a tactician."

Jazz blinked and then smiled back. "Doesn't surprise ma, ya just have this certain air around ya."

"Wish I could say the same," admitted Prowl with an embarrassed doorwing flutter. "In my defence**, **I did learn over the last few joors that you're far more than the stupid Kaonite Enforcer that I first thought you to be."

Jazz stared. "Eh... thank you?"

"You're welcome. If I may ask, what was your specialisation?"

"Sabotage." He shrugged. "It seems that Ah got the talent of ma creators to get into places Ah shouldn't be."

Prowl gave him an unreadable glance. "Indeed. So, how does all this tie in with Ricochet?"

"Ah. Well, during the time Ah was in Iacon our creators botched a job and were killed. Ah got the message pretty fast, packed and hurried with the last of ma credits back to Kaon." Jazz's face became darker. "Ah wasn't fast enough. Ric had been all alone as a youngling in Kaon and had fallen in with a streetgang to survive. Things had happened to him and he was never again my little innocent brother. Still Ah took him in, gave him energon, but... well. My salary as an Enforcer is enough to fuel maself, but not ma and a growing youngling. More often than not he got his energon from other places and did odd jobs to stay alive." Jazz sighed, remembering these desperate orns with feelings of regret and infinite sadness. "Not surprisingly**, **he stopped going to school and came less and less ta ma, until he had practically moved out without ever saying so. From then on Ah only saw him by chance or when he decided to visit ma, because he was down on his luck."

The Praxian Enforcer next to him nodded. "Sometimes there are no happy endings. But I still fail to see how this was your fault?"

Jazz looked at his companion. How to explain the burning certainty that he hadn't done enough, that he did the wrong thing and said too many harsh words? How to describe the feeling that they all should've been some little happy family**?**

"Do ya have a cohort or family?" he asked, trying to find a similarity.

"No." And there was a tinge of regret in that word. "Praxus's Enforcers are all created by Vector Sigma to ensure that we're impartial."

This boggled Jazz's processor for a moment. Vector Sigma created mechs were expensive, especially as they were not forced to go into the job they were created for. The price for Praxus Enforcers must be astronomical. But to also imagine that there was no one who really cared about 'you' when you took your first steps was a scary thought. "Ya must have been lonely as a youngling," he commented.

"Sometimes." Prowl's wings flicked. "Do you consider joining the Decepticons because of a sense of duty for your brother?"

So he hadn't forgotten. That would've made things too easy. "No. I consider because what Ric said was right. Times are changing and the Decepticons will be the new rulers of Kaon."

"Is this the only reason?" asked Prowl**,** deceptively gently. For a crazy moment**,** Jazz wanted to tell him everything. The mech was a good interrogator, Jazz noticed. Very good.

"Yes," he lied and again heard the words ringing inside his cortex: Dare to dream.

What were his dreams anyway?

He couldn't answer this question. Instead he concentrated on the now, as always:

"We've now covered most of Kaon. The word will be out in a few joors and even the other gangs will know. But if ya want we can visit their bosses too to be sure."

Prowl shook his head. "If you say it's not necessary**,** then I trust your judgement. I would like to visit a few other places though, like the Energon plant. Is it possible for Glint to steal from there?"

"No." The answer was delivered with absolute certainty. He gave Prowl a long**, **contemplating look. "But I can show you the plant anyway. It's only a small detour."

Prowl nodded. "That would be good for my later report. Thank you."

Jazz led them through a few more streets in this gloomy maze. From time to time Prowl asked a small question which Jazz was always able to answer. Once they passed the entrance to the lower levels of Kaon and Prowl showed concern that Glint might have fled downstairs. Jazz only shook his head and said that if Glint had been that stupid, he was lucky if he was deactivated by now. On further pushing, he made it clear that there was no Kaonite Enforcer crazy enough to go down there. Prowl let the subject drop.

Slowly the streets became wider again and more mechs met them without turning around the second they saw them. Then they walked below a highway bridge, where the poorest of mechs sought shelter. Above and around them was the constant noise of the traffic stream, while down here the shadows became dark enough that they had to dial up the sensitivity of their optics.

The first two times a mech crawled towards them, begging for credits Prowl flinched away, while Jazz only shook his helmet in denial. He was too used to this Cybertronian drama. In the corner laid mechs, grey and still, not moving anymore. No one touched them to make sure that they're already deactivated, it was just assumed they were. Jazz kept his helmet straight and walked on.

Until Prowl stopped abruptly. "They're sucking his fuel lines!" the Praxian exclaimed with wide optics, servo switching towards his weapon.

Jazz followed his gaze and saw that Prowl was indeed right. A group of five mechs were kneeling around a grey mech, their mouths placed on various places of the motionless frame, where open wounds were gaping wide open. It was an eerily silent scene, no one screamed or even moved. All of the leeches had their own optics deactivated, as if in prayer.

"They're sucking him dry," confirmed Jazz quietly, not moving an inch. It was illegal, one of the most heavily punished crimes around Cybertron. Also it had become something more than a crime in Kaon.

Prowl stepped forward, ready to take the five murderers on. But he'd walked less than two steps before he noticed that his partner didn't follow him. Agitated**,** he turned around: "Don't tell me, you'll watch this murder with another comment that this is the only way. I didn't take you for such a coward."

Jazz's visor flashed. "No," he said. "We're not watching." He took his gun out of subspace as well. "But it wouldn't help to run into the situation gunblazing and all."

"No?" Prowl stepped aside. "Then after you, Jazz."

With a sigh**,** Jazz walked forward and the two Enforcers approached the group. Around them the grey mechs crawled and ran away, most of them slowly as they didn't have the energy for more. No one wanted to be here when the situation blew up.

Jazz stopped two steps away from the group and looked at the scene. The dying mech in the middle had already entered stasis and was only breems away from deactivation. Jazz doubted that a medic would arrive in time – if a medic would even bother to come here. These mechs had been given up by everyone, often enough even by themselves.

"Gentlemechs, do you have a contract?" Jazz asked coldly, and pointed his gun directly at the spark of the nearest leecher. They froze like one mech, but didn't move. "A contract," snarled Jazz. "Do you hear me? If you haven't one, prepare for the consequences."

"No, no," whimpered the leech at the throat of the victim. "We have one, one contract. One. One is enough, yes?"

"If it's the right one, yes," confirmed Jazz. "Show me your contract."

The leech fumbled, then he produced an old, battered datapad from somewhere beneath a pile of dirt. He held it towards the Enforcers. Jazz didn't move, instead he said: "Prowl."

The Praxian Enforcer, even though he clearly didn't agree with what was happening, took the datapad with an expression as if the dirt had personally offended him.

Jazz didn't let the leeches out of his optics. They might be nearly starved, but desperation made every mech dangerous. "Step away and read it out loud," he ordered.

Prowl did and started to read: "Designation: Airstreak. Creation date: 12-5253 vorn Golden Age. I, Airstreak, do with this document relinquish all ownership to the fuel in my lines in return for an as peaceful deactivation as possible. To reach this deactivation, the new owners of my fuel must provide me with Xerox until I do not feel anything. I am of sound processor and spark and have reached this conclusion of my own free will. The new owners of my fuel are not responsible for what will happen to me. Signed by Airstreak." The Praxian stared at the datapad then added quietly: "It's a suicide contract."

Jazz nodded, considerably less surprised. "They became popular a few vorns ago when the energon famine became worse. As far as our expert could say, they're legal."

"Legal," repeated Prowl flatly. "How can this be legal?" He pointed at the leeches who had started sucking the fuel again the moment they had the feeling that the Enforcer wouldn't shoot them for it.

"The control over one's own spark is a Primus given right**.**" Jazz quoted one of Cybertron's basic laws. "I've sent a query to main quarters and they've confirmed that his face structure is identical with a mech of the designation Airstreak. Is the signature real, too?"

Prowl checked it again. "Yes."

"Then we have nothing to do here anymore." Jazz stepped away from the leechers and the dying mech. "Come."

Prowl stood and stared, not moving. His doorwings were trembling a bit, but his optics were firmly set upon the cannibals. Jazz's face softened a bit and he put a hand on the arm of his partner. "Come," he said warmly. "This is nothing that we have to watch."

"But it's something that we should stop," argued the Praxian with a hint of desperation.

Jazz wanted to argue. Wanted to point out that it was free will and all. But really, was it free will when these mechs chose between starving to death and a death during which they wouldn't feel anything thanks to a highly illegal drug? No. Prowl was right. They should stop this. At its root. So he only said defeated: "Yes."

Prowl remained standing there, and Jazz next to him, his hand always on the arm of the Praxian Enforcer. Together they watched at the victim's grey changed in only nuances to the grey of the death, while the leeches sucked on and on.

Dare to dream. About a world without such scenes.

When it was finally over**, **they departed the scene quietly. There was nothing more they could do.

The relief of Prowl when they reached the energon plant was obvious. The street they were on ended in a heavily guarded gate, beyond which was an empty stretch of land of maybe 200 metres. Only then the buildings of the plant, that looked like giant grey toy cubes**,** arose. But Prowl's gaze was captured by the empty land. If once looked closer, the Enforcers could see grey, deformed heaps.

"Are these..." asked Prowl quietly, but with no real surprise. Joors ago this might have shaken him, now he was only taking it in with a deep feeling of loss.

"Corpses? Yes." Jazz stopped walking. "We call this the Zone. It once had a fence with warning signs, but it was destroyed so often no one bothered to built it anymore. Instead they just left the corpses as a warning."

Prowl's optics became darker. "Let me guess, the warning is: We kill everyone who walks here?"

Jazz chuckled. "Ya're learning Kaonite's language pretty fast."

The Praxian Enforcer didn't bother to answer as he took in the scene. The longer he looked**, **the more security details one could make out. At the gate were eight heavily armoured mechs, the whole area was covered in spring guns and sentinel drones were only half-covered in trenches. Between the trenches were a different kind of holes, made from missiles and exploded equipment. On the plant's buildings roofs one could see more metal glinting in the light – no doubt even more weaponry.

"This looks like a war zone," the Praxian commented.

"It is. How do ya think it got the nickname Zone?" Jazz sighed. "Mechs regularly attack this plant, but they never get in. Can't remember the last time a single cube was stolen. It's impossible."

"I can believe that now." Prowl made a step towards the gate, but Jazz quickly grabbed the edge of his wings. The Praxian hissed offended. "Let me go!"

"Sorry." Jazz released the wing. "Just don't get nearer, yes? The guards are famous for being trigger-happy."

Swinging the doorwing that Jazz had just touched, he said: "Surely, they wouldn't shoot down two Enforcers."

Jazz gave him a flat look. "Ah would not bet on it." He noticed a slight movement in the guard group. "We'd better move, they have noticed us and I don't wanna see any medic today."

Not having a better alternative**,** Prowl agreed.

There were several highways leading away from the plant, but Jazz remained stubbornly walking. Next to him, Prowl gave him a puzzled look: "Maybe we should return to the station. I still have to look into the archives, and maybe I can find a half-accurate map. That would surely help."

"Good luck with that." Jazz glanced at this partner, suddenly a bit uncomfortable. "If ya want to return faster, ya can. Are ya sure ya know the way?"

"Will you not accompany me?" Prowl's wings raised in sudden alarm. "I thought your superior made it clear that you're to help me in any way."

"He did, yes, just..." He sighed. "Look, we walked the whole time mostly because the streets here are so bad, but that wasn't the only reason. We Kaonite Enforcers are supposed to do most of our patrols on pede and well, some mech in the administration decided that meant we need less energon."

Prowl stared at his partner with sudden understanding. "You're starving...!"

"Nah, it's not that bad," Jazz tried to downplay it**, **embarrassed. "But I did give Softkey half a cube of ma own rations and well..." He shrugged. "Now Ah hafta pay for it."

"Half a cube shouldn't reduce you to not being able to transform, if you're not starving," explained Prowl sharply. "What is your usual ration for an orn? Two cubes?"

"One cube," corrected Jazz suddenly so very tiredly. "We have more energy efficient models, remember? Motorcycle here."

"Once cube for an entire orn, that's preposterous!" The Praxian seemed to be really shocked. "How can you be even doing your job still? No wonder you've all got the reputation of being easily bribed. Primus, how did you even give Ricochet some energon from such a meagre ration?"

"I managed, alright?" said Jazz testily, but was ignored.

"With one cube you shouldn't be able to do your job. Every high-speed chase uses more!"

"This is Kaon. No one has the energy for high-speed chases."

"Still... The state is starving their own Enforcers." Prowl shook his helmet. "That can't end well."

Jazz didn't have a reply for that, because it was true. His processor jumped back to Speedrake and his new Decepticon sign and wondered what the Enforcer had been offered. One cube an orn? Less? More? His own tank rumbled hungrily. It had been such a long time since he had had a full tank. Usually he didn't let himself think about it, but now he couldn't help but wonder what the Decepticons would offer him. Ricochet had seemed to be well fuelled...

"Here." Suddenly a full, pink cube was being held in front of Jazz. "Drink."

Jazz stared with wide optics at the cube, then at the Praxian next to him. One didn't give cubes up like that, one just didn't. At least not for free. That lesson was beaten into every Kaonite fast. "What da ya want for it?" he asked cautiously.

Prowl's face become darker. "Do you really think I would demand money from my own partner for a single energon cube, while his tank is nearly empty?"

Jazz stared back. No, he hadn't thought about money exactly... and in that moment, Prowl seemed to understand what kind of favours were traded between Enforcers in Kaon. "Just drink. I don't want to have my own partner starving."

He looked at Prowl who seemed so sincere, then at the full cube held so invitingly in front of him. "I don't need your pity," he tried a last time.

"This is not pity, it's common sense. My partner should be able to keep up with me." Prowl pressed the cube against Jazz's breast plates. "Take it."

Jazz took the cube as finally the demands of his tanks won out. With little sips, and then bigger more confident gulps**, **he began to drink, filling his tank faster and faster. It felt good. Very good. Especially as he passed the low mark to which he was usually energised and still had energon left in the cube. When all the energon had vanished into his tank, the world seemed brighter and lighter, and his movements suddenly came to him so easy... He wondered what it would feel like to have his tank full above the 50 per cent mark. Maybe he would dance again. He had loved doing it in Iacon, but here in Kaon it was considered foolish. Still, he had loved it.

"Thank you," he said quietly after a few astroseconds, his face plates burning. It wasn't that he was really ashamed, no, he couldn't help his circumstances. But something in Prowl's optics made him squirm.

A small smile danced across the Praxian's face. "You're welcome." He stepped back. "Can we now drive back?"

"Sure." Suddenly mischievous**,** he looked at his companion. "If ya can keep up if me."

A revv and the sound of transformation was all the answer to his challenge that he needed.

Oh, it felt so good to race again.

Needless to mention that they reached the station in record time and that Jazz was leading. Still laughing**,** he transformed back. "And the winner is da Jazz-master!"

Next to him**,** the Praxian transformed far more elegantly and stretched his doorwings. "I admit to having lost fair and square."

"Well," Jazz grinned. "You gave me a good challenge anyway."

The Praxian smiled as he walked into the station. "I admit that I regularly race in Praxus to catch some speeders."

The archive was located in the basement. Alarge computer stood here, maintained and updated by a lone AI whose name no one recalled. Jazz had been told that the AI at full power was able to deduce things in an instant that a normal mech took orns to do, but he had never seen it powered beyond the bare minimum. Prowl gave the polite spectre that greeted them a cold look, then dismissed the AI with a few words after he got the pathlines for the maps.

The maps were, of course, so outdated that it bordered on the ridiculous. Jazz gave Prowl a long glance when the Praxian asked about structures and pathways, but answered every question to his best of knowledge. Glint wasn't mentioned once and Jazz would've been hard**-**pressed anyway to say what the government buildings had to do with a serial killer. Still, Prowl wanted to know and Jazz provided.

It took a long while to build a map that at least didn't give any wrong data anymore. Big, white dots marked that map now, with grey areas simply titulated as 'slums' and several other colours which marked the gang territories. Special interest had been taken to make sure that every giant apartment block with more than five thousands residents corresponded to a real one. Now, looking at the map, Jazz quietly decided that Kaon made a sad picture. Wherever one looked, there was corruption, danger and violence reigning supreme.

"Jazz, would you please colour every area over which the Decepticons have total control purple? When they have at least partial control, I think a lighter purple would be a good choice," instructed Prowl.

"Sure." He started to work. It went quickly and only breems later they had a purple map with a few colourful islands inbetween. Jazz pointed out a few of them. "They'll probably join da movement in a decaorn or so. Or maybe they already have and Ah just didn't get the word."

With serious, undecipherable optics**, **the Praxian Enforcer looked over the map, clearly burning it into his memory cortexes. "Soon, they'll rule everything."

"Yeah," agreed Jazz and remembered again the teasing glyphs 'dare to dream'. Would his dreams come to him wearing purple?

Soon after**,** they left the station and Jazz went to his little run-down apartment to wait for the next shift.

Overthe next orns**, **Prowl never left the station again and always stayed within the archives, collecting any significant data he could find. Jazz was always by his side and when Prowl regularly gave him a energon cube on the side, the AI didn't care.

With time**, **the Praxian Enforcer became a bit warmer and the Kaonite Enforcer a bit more trusting. They traded stories about arrests, and as Enforcer gossips, compared their cities and sometimes even their own lives.

But all things have to come to an end and this end approached only six orns later.

Prowl straightened, stretched his cramped doorwings**,** and with deliberate servos turned off the console he was working on. The darkening of the lights was what made Jazz look up from his own work. "Prowl, everything alright over there?"

"Yes. I'm merely finished." The Praxian didn't look at Jazz, but at the maps he was working on and then at the shadows of the computer room surrounding them. "I've been called back to Praxus as my superiors have determined that Glint is probably already deactivated and that the chances of finding him are too low now in any case."

That wasn't good news to Jazz. He had started to enjoy working with the Praxian, to have a reliable Enforcer at his back and to live something resembling a normal Enforcer life. "Can't really disagree with them, Prowl. The chances were never high."

"No, they weren't," agreed Prowl easily. "But then, Glint was never the reason I came, right?"

Jazz's visor flashed. He had suspected it, but never dared to voice the accusations in his processor. "So ya're really a spy?" he asked flatly, his tanks suddenly squirming as he couldn't ignore the implications any longer.

"Kind of," admitted Prowl quietly, maybe even a bit ashamed. "I was tasked by the Prime to find out as much as possible about the situation in Kaon and its possible military targets." He seems to fight with himself and then forced his head to look at Jazz. "My work was very successful and would've never been possible without your help so I wanted to thank you."

Right. Being thanked by a spy of Optimus Prime in a city that was being taken over by a group outlawed by said mech. Did that make him a traitor? Better yet, would the Decepticons and other Kaonites care that he had just done his job? Probably not. Sparks were cheap and Kaon had always loved public displays of spilled energon. Jazz didn't know how how he should express the roiling emotions inside him, somewhere between hysterical laughter and quiet desperation.

So he just smirked: "Mech, ya're really new to this spying thing, right? Ya do not thank the mech ya used, even if the mech suspects. Rule number one. Didn't they get ya the spy book?"

Prowl looked startled. "No, they didn't." He paused as he realised that Jazz was trying to deflect from the matter at hand. "I'm happy that you suspected and decided to help me... you're probably more aware than I what the Decepticons will do to you, if they ever found out."

Jazz's visor darkened until it was nearly black. "Ah am."

The chances were low that no one would connect the source of Prime's information with the highly visible visit of a Prax of all mechs. And then the accusations and guilt would be all Jazz's to bear. Death would come as a sweet release.

Truthfully**, **Jazz couldn't say why he had helped Prowl besides his thoughts what the other mech really was. Maybe it had been loneliness, maybe the extra cube of energon which he could used to so , it simply had been the small fact that he actually genuinely liked Prowl with his awkward mannerism, dry humour and clear moral lines. Maybe.

Prowl shifted on his pedes. "I don't want you to die. So, maybe you could come back with me to Iacon?"

Jazz froze. Then laughed**, **torn between offended and some more painful emotion he shied away from in favour of anger. "To Iacon? Ah? Ya expect me to abandon my city and to just go for what? And what would Ah even do in Iacon – clean doorsteps? No, thanks." He rose from his seat. "If that was all, Prowl, you just run back to Praxus or Iacon or whatever and let ma stay where Ah belong."

"Jazz..." The single word was drenched in emotions. "Please, be reasonable."

"Ah'm realistic!"

"You are definitely not!" Prowl crossed his arms. "You said yourself that you worked once in Iacon as one of the best Enforcers of our planet. And you could also provide the Prime with invaluable insight into Kaon. You would be respected, have a regular income and a good home." He softened bit. "And far more energon than you'll ever get here."

Jazz flinched. It always came back to the energon. "And ya think all that is enough ta turn me against my own home? Against every mech Ah've ever known and ma own brother?"

For several long sparkbeats**,** the humming of the computers was the only thing heard. Then Prowl sighed. "I hope so, yes."

"Ya are a fool," spat Jazz and started to walk to the exit.

Prowl took the insult in stride. "A fool that wants you to survive more than just the next few decaorns. I'm your friend, Jazz. Even if you do not believe me now."

"Ya're a spy." With a last glance back he added: "And spies lie."

He walked out. As the door closed behind him, it left a heavy shadow on his spark. Deep in thought**,** he used his extra energon to race home, a nearly criminal squander but he needed it now. He needed the feeling of speed and control and choice. While all the time being acutely aware that he was burning Prowl's energon.

Before he reached the steps of his apartment block**,** his comm system pinged and a small message popped up. He read it automatically before realising who the sender was.

_Shuttle: Astrotrain. Parking place: 346. Departure in eleven joors. Jazz, please come._

That was the whole message and few things had hurt comparatively. Impulsively**, **Jazz wanted to delete it, but then he hesitated and stumbled into his apartment block. The steward of his home welcomed him with a fake smile, but no threat or worse. Jazz had been a good tenant for vorns, had always paid his rent and even two credits more to keep the Stewards on his side. It had paid off over the vorns as they had chosen to forget the times when Jazz hadn't been able to pay, because he had used his small salary to buy a few more dredges of energon for a youngling that tried to hide the desperate hunger shining in his optics...

He walked past with small nod, trying to hide the memories and the cruel punishments of the Stewards. It was with them that he had learned to switch his emotions off and to forget. Pure necessity at the time, but even now he woke up during a bad recharge cycle and felt bodies against him or saw energon dripping from his servos in pink neon.

He walked on past the begging younglings in the hallways, around the drugged mechs sprawled across the dirty floor in front of the lift. Left and right the walls were smeared with messages, some holding true information like what floor belonged to which gang, others simply name tags and a third category was the cheapest kind of advertisement available in Kaon. Again and again he saw the glyphs 'dream' and 'dare' and Decepticon interwoven with a single name: Megatron.

The lift came and he entered. It had been chance that his apartment was at the very top floor of the building, but he had never regretted the fact. It made it quieter and the roof was the one joy in his life that came without any strings attached.

In front of his apartment door**, **he suddenly stopped. Behind it was his room with a single berth and not much else. He had never had the credits to buy more as he had always given them to Ricochet and later to mechs like Softkey. There had been a reason the other Enforcers had joked that he was too soft for a life in Kaon.

He decided to let his apartment be. With a troubled spark he entered the roof and stood on the small, clattering metal bridge. The view was still there and hadn't changed. With heavy thoughts his optics jumped from building to building, searching for something that he couldn't name.

Looking back**,**Jazz knew it had been no chance that he of all Enforcers had gotten Prowl. The chief had probably suspected the Praxian's real mission**,** and being the sneaky mech he was, he had chosen one of the few Enforcers who was not corrupted beyond any help for the collaboration.

Jazz sighed and sat down on the bridge, elbows on his thighs.

He remembered the view from Iacon's towers over the city. It had been so much brighter, but in many ways the same. The real difference hadn't not been in the architecture and not even in the easily available energon. No, the real difference had been the mechs. The Iaconians had always talked about the future, about their wants and hopes for the vorns to come. His life in Iacon now seemed so far away, like a faint dream, but he remembered one thing with sudden clarity: He had joined those talks. He too had once wanted more from life than a single energon cube more.

"Dare to dream," he muttered thoughtfully. Megatron was right. Kaon needed to dare to dream or it would never find the energy to change matters.

And shouldn't Jazz stay around and join such a movement? Shouldn't he try to change Kaon for the better too?

He should. But he had seen the mechs joining the Decepticons, knew who was leading them and a part of him feared. They would change Kaon, yes. But for the better? He didn't know.

Maybe he should stay for the mechs. But the hard truth was that his colleagues were not mechs he trusted and friends were nothing one had in Kaon. And Ricochet... little, innocent Ricochet wasn't anymore. He was now his own mech making his own choices.

'Dare to dream' Megatron had said and Jazz remembered a time when he dreamed of justice. Of being able to see right and wrong. Of leaving Kaon.

Again his optics roamed the city state in front of him, searching for anything that would give him a warm spark or was worth fighting for. His optics only found the same things as always, while deep in his spark the same strange, distracting feeling beat stronger that he had carried around since Prowl's offer. It was hope.

Jazz shuttered his optics and dared it.

He dreamed.

The shuttle would leave any moment and yet the passenger was still standing in front of it. Only the doorwings on his back showed that he was anxious about something.

::Sir,:: said the shuttle. ::We have to leave.::

The doorwings lowered a bit. ::I'm aware of it, Astrotrain.:: Prowl couldn't wait any longer.

With a heavy spark and the distinct feeling he was leaving a bright, intelligent mech to his violent death**, **he climbed up the ramp. Astrotrain was spacious and comfortable on the inside, even though he originally was a military class model.

"Well, there you are," said an amused voice suddenly. "I feared we would've had to fly without you."

Prowl's head snapped up. With wide optics**,** he recognised the black and white Enforcer sitting in one of the chairs for passengers. "Jazz!"

"The one and only," came the answer with a smile. "I decided to get on the shuttle a bit earlier."

Relief crashed through Prowl as he sat down across from the other Enforcer. "But... how?"

"Special training on sabotage, remember?" Jazz winked.

"Yes." He leaned back and felt the slight vibrations as Astrotrain started his powerful engines. "I'm happy that you decided to come." The words felt indequate to express his feelings, but they were all he had.

The smile on Jazz's face slipped a bit. "You were right, Prowl... you and the Decepticon both." He looked outside of the window to where Kaon got smaller and smaller. "I just had to remember to dream again."


End file.
